


anything for you

by sketchedsmiles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji-centric, Fluff, Gay, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27241492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketchedsmiles/pseuds/sketchedsmiles
Summary: Akaashi Keiji does not think he'd make a suitable vice-captain. In fact, he makes a list to prove it.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 25
Kudos: 233





	anything for you

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this pining mess for a friend, and i figured i'd share it with all of you

There has always been something therapeutic about the repetition that comes with volleyball. Even at its high points of intensity, even when hearts are racing and the exhilaration overcomes all of your senses, there is a special comfort in knowing that it never demands more from you than what you can give.

Akaashi knows this better than anyone.

He doesn’t have to question anything about his position. He knows he is the control tower, the designated spine of the team, and that’s enough for him. It’s enough to stand by the net, keenly aware of his teammates standing on the court, poised and ready for the exact moment when the ball settles against his fingers and soars upward. It isn’t easy, but it’s what he knows, and even as a first-year with all of the unpredictability that comes with joining a powerhouse like Fukurodani Academy, he can trust in the calm familiarity of setting the ball.

And so, when he tosses it up in a brilliant arc towards Bokuto on the left, there is nothing but easy contentment resting in his stomach—which only strengthens when Bokuto’s arm swings downward, the resounding smack against the ball the only warning before it lands on the other side of the court.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheers, pumping his arms as if he’s scored the winning point. “That was great, Akaashi!”

Akaashi is never quite prepared for the feeling he gets when Bokuto levels him with one of his grins. It’s like the easy contentment stirs for a second. “Uh, thank you, Bokuto-san.”

“He’s right,” Komi says, coming up to place a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. “That was a nice one, Akaashi. Keep up the good work.”

Akaashi hasn’t figured out if the tension in the air has dissipated since the third-years have left the team, but the second-years are far more forward in their praise than they were when they started the year. That—or he’s become a part of the team more than he originally thought. Looking at the rest of their bright smiles as they all flock over to where their coach has called for their attention, he’s thinking that may be the case.

The only one who has been constant is Bokuto. From the beginning, his boldness has been apparent. Instead of wading into the water, his interactions with Bokuto make him feel like he’s been thrown into the deep end. Without warning or preparation.

Not—he thinks as Bokuto smacks his back while coming to join their huddle—that he particularly minds being thrown into the deep end.

“That was a good practice today,” Coach murmurs. “Make sure to stretch before you head home. As mentioned before, I do have to leave early, but I wanted to bring something to your attention first.” He pauses. “As the third-years are gone, it’s time to start thinking about the captaincy for next year. I know it was pretty unanimous but—”

“It should be Bokuto,” Konoha cuts in. Then his eyes widen. “Sorry for interrupting, sir! But I think everyone here would agree that he’s the best fit for the position. Until someone dedicates as much time to practice as he does, he’s the obvious choice.”

When Akaashi looks over at Bokuto, he’s pretty certain he’s not imagining the sheen of tears.

“ _Konoha!_ ” Bokuto cries, enveloping the other player in a tight embrace before Konoha can dodge. “I never would’ve expected this from you, you big softie—”

“Off, _off_ ,” Konoha demands. He places a hand on Bokuto’s face and pushes back in a poor attempt to free himself. “This is my kindness quota for the year done! I’ve reached my limit. I want the rest of you to lower your expectations of me from here on out.”

“Don’t worry,” Komi says. “They were already pretty low.”

Konoha finally wriggles out of Bokuto’s grip, his hair ruffled. He sputters and runs a hand down the front of his shirt before taking an exaggerated step away from Bokuto, who looks like he might go in for another hug for the sake of it.

Though, Konoha’s right. It _had_ been a unanimous decision. He is the star, the one who burns so brightly that he outshines the rest. He is the most dedicated out of all of them, and Akaashi’s burned through enough practice sessions firsthand to know that for a fact. And…it means the most to him.

Perhaps people look at their club with pity whenever Bokuto hits one of his slumps, but what they don’t realize is that every single person on their team wants Bokuto to succeed. They trust that he will pick himself up again, because they know that he wants to. It’s satisfying to see Bokuto at the time of his game—and Akaashi is sure that the rest of the team feels the same way.

“Well,” Coach says with a slight smile, effectively cutting off any further attempt from Bokuto to attack Konoha, “that’s settled. Congratulations, Bokuto. There is the other thing: the question of who will be vice-captain.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Bokuto jumps straight to attention. “Akaashi’s going to be a great vice-captain!”

The silence that falls after his statement is almost deafening. The only thing left to fill it is the occasional squeak of someone’s sneakers against the hardwood and the blood rushing to his ears.

That easy contentment fades replaced with that stirring he’s become accustomed to since joining the club, flooding his insides until he tightens his hands into fists at his sides. He can’t speak. He’s not sure what he would say if he could, but his mouth is so dry, and he feels very much like he needs to sit down.

Still, there is no flicker of emotion on his face to betray the storm warring inside him.

People tend to think that he’s emotionless or uncaring. Akaashi never really corrects them because it would be unproductive, and there’s no point. People will believe what they want to believe, and Akaashi believes in himself. He knows the reality of his emotions. He knows that he feels more than most people—that even when his expression is frozen, there is always the chance that the lid won’t hold.

It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything. It’s that he feels too _much._ He constantly feels as though he’s overflowing, teetering on the edge of being too much and not enough. And right now, he knows he’s right on the edge.

“Wha—” His mouth betrays him again. “What?” he tries.

His gaze sweeps around at his assembled teammates, all of whom are determined not to meet his eye, staring at the floor. Washio looks like he’s screaming inside his head. Akaashi whips his head toward their coach, caught in the middle of scratching the nape of his neck.

“Uh…as I said earlier, boys, I have something to do, and time really does fly, so I should probably be going,” Coach splutters, even as Akaashi narrows his eyes at him. “Traffic is always a pain. Anyway, feel free to discuss this on your own time. Let me know when it’s all decided.”

Akaashi has never seen their coach flee the gym faster than he does now. It would almost be funny if it weren’t at his expense.

When Akaashi twists towards his teammates, he finds all of them with matching sheepish expressions.

Konoha pulls out his wrist and stares at it, despite the obvious lack of a watch adorning it. “Time is a funny thing! That reminds me! I have to be somewhere. Somewhere that isn’t here. And it’s urgent.”

“So do I!” Komi bursts out. “I can almost smell my dinner waiting for me from here, so I really should be off.”

“Me too!” Washio adds. “I…have a thing.”

“I’m assuming the rest of you also have _things_ ,” Akaashi says, his voice as cold as ice as he looks over at Sarukui and the other first-years.

“I don’t have a thing,” Bokuto mumbles, looking down at his feet. It’s the first time Akaashi has looked at him since his outburst, and he doesn’t like the jolt in his gut that comes with it.

Sarukui hums with a furious nod, and with that, the entire team takes that as their cue to follow in their coach’s footsteps and flee the scene of the crime. They’ve never dashed out of practice as fast as they do now, an impressive feat considering most of them were complaining over their aching limbs only moments ago. The only one who has stayed behind is Bokuto, and Akaashi can feel the nervous energy thrumming off him.

Akaashi lets out a deep sigh and kneels down to retie his shoelace, having come undone in their last practice set. He doesn’t have to look up to feel Bokuto hovering around him like a hummingbird.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto finally says after Akaashi has taken a deliberately long time in tying his sneakers up. “I was going to ask you. Honest! But I kept forgetting to do it, and I convinced myself that I had already done it, and I told Coach about it, and now, I realize that I _forgot_ —”

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, rising to his feet. Bokuto has his hands gripped in front of him, but he raises his gaze to Akaashi. “It’s really alright.”

It really is _not_ alright. He can’t fathom why Bokuto would blurt out that he’s going to be a great vice-captain. Scratch that, he can’t fathom why Bokuto would think he would make a great vice-captain to begin with. Their team has a great selection of third-years, and surely, one of his senpais would rather take up the position.

Akaashi can’t even _picture_ himself as the vice-captain. He’s always been too quiet, too soft-spoken. The captaincy belongs to people like Bokuto—who speak without restraint and worry for what others will say back.

“Oh, okay,” Bokuto says. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, I’m not mad. Just tired. We’ll…uh, talk about this later.”

“Oh, right!” Bokuto perks right up. “Sounds good. I’ll text you! Or I’ll see you! You know, at school tomorrow.”

Akaashi hums in agreement, not trusting himself to say anything more.

* * *

When he arrives home, he ignores all of the incoming text messages from Bokuto and takes a seat at his desk. For once, his homework and future assignments go untouched, and he pulls out a blank sheet of paper.

The entire walk home, all he could think about was one question: _Why?_ Why him? Is Bokuto serious? Did the rest of the team run because they don’t agree with Bokuto’s choice? Or did they simply feel the obvious embarrassment and choose not to subject themselves to it any longer?

None of them have attempted to contact him, and for that, Akaashi is somewhat grateful. He has too much on his mind at the moment to deal with anyone’s interference, and when it comes to what he’s about to do, he needs clarity.

Scrawling along the paper, he titles the list: _All of the Reasons Akaashi Keiji Would NotMake a Suitable Vice-Captain._A bit wordy, sure. But it’s clear. He would not make a suitable vice-captain.

* * *

(1) Akaashi Keiji is not dedicated enough.

He’s reminded of the first point on his list on his way to school the next morning. Even though he hasn’t responded to any of Bokuto’s messages, they never cease. Sometimes, Bokuto will just text Akaashi his name in all caps, and when Akaashi responds, he will send him a meaningless fun fact he’s learned since seeing him a few hours ago. Other times, he’ll complain about school and homework and plead with Akaashi to put him out of misery. But there are other times when his texts are much quieter, a simple _Can we practice for a bit before school_?

The most recent text does not fit into any of the aforementioned categories per say. It’s a video of Bokuto already at the school gym, even though Akaashi himself is still a five minute walk away. He’s somehow positioned his phone against the far wall, and Akaashi watches Bokuto stand at the other end of the court. No one is holding the phone or anything. He’s merely propped it up and started recording.

Bokuto dribbles the ball against the floor a few times, a key point in his pre-serve routine, then he tosses it high into the air. It looks like a decent toss. When serves go wrong, the problem is usually the toss. But all is looking well. That is—until Bokuto finally hits the serve.

It soars high above the net in a great arc, but Akaashi realizes what is about to happen a second too late. And from what he can see on-screen, so does Bokuto. When the volleyball slams into his phone and knocks it to the floor, Akaashi can’t help but jump. He hears Bokuto off-screen running towards the phone, huffing and muttering, “Oh, please, don’t be broken, don’t be broken.” The last thing he sees is Bokuto’s satisfied beam as he appears in the corner of the video and picks his phone off the floor, stopping the recording.

**Bokuto Koutarou:** _hey hey hey akaashi! I was trying to practice my serve, and look what I did!!!!! Also want to come to the gym and practice??????_

An overabundance of punctuation as usual.

Akaashi bites his lip. Normally, a message like this from Bokuto would leave him feeling amused, but now, all he recognizes is a sinking sensation in his stomach. Bokuto is already at the gym. He’s already practicing. He’s incredibly dedicated, and most of the time, Akaashi is just trying to keep up. It’s fruitless.

He simply isn’t dedicated enough.

And he’s a coward, because he can’t bring himself to respond to Bokuto. Instead, he adjusts his path and heads straight for his homeroom.

* * *

(2) Akaashi Keiji is a coward.

He’s been avoiding Bokuto all day. It’s a nearly impossible feat considering that Bokuto seems to have installed a chip inside Akaashi’s brain. He always manages to find Akaashi in whatever nook or cranny he’s disappeared to, but Akaashi has never been more aware of Bokuto than he is now, making it easier to run in the other direction the second he spots the familiar mop of white and black hair.

That doesn’t mean the frequency of text messages lessens, and every time he hears the familiar chime, it sends a sharp pang into his chest.

He sits on the lowest stair of the back staircase, scrolling through the messages with his thumb. If it’s a real emergency, he wants to be able to answer Bokuto.

“So,” a voice breaks through his train of thought, and Akaashi freezes. He’s been caught. “You’re avoiding Bokuto.”

Akaashi turns his head enough to find Konoha descending the stairs towards him. He drops his backpack beside Akaashi’s legs and settles down beside him, not waiting for the invitation. It’s quintessential Konoha, and at least, this of all things is familiar to him.

“I’m not avoiding Bokuto,” he denies quickly, pocketing his cell phone. “What gave you that impression?”

Konoha runs a hand through his mop of hair. “Because _I’m_ avoiding Bokuto. And if I’ve found you, that means we’re guilty of the same thing.” He pauses. “How did that awkward conversation go yesterday?”

Ah. That makes things a bit clearer. “Why are _you_ avoiding Bokuto?”

“I’d rather not hear him whining. ‘Oh, Konoha, Akaashi hasn’t responded to my texts since yesterday.’ ‘Oh, Konoha, do you think he’s mad?’ ‘Konoha, what if he doesn’t want to be my vice-captain?’ You get the picture?”

Something twists deep inside him. It feels like a knife, and the wound is getting deeper.

“I—”

“You have to talk to him eventually,” Konoha says. “For all our sakes. Plus, we have practice later, and all he’s going to do is stare at you if you don’t say anything. I think it’ll be the quickest he dips into one of his sad moods.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Akaashi says, because surely, Bokuto isn’t as wrecked over this as he is.

“I never joke.” His expression is deadpan. “Not when it comes to this.” He takes a moment to look at Akaashi. “ _Are_ you mad that he blurted out his choice to have you as his vice-captain without consulting you beforehand? I thought you’d be pleased.”

The knife digs in deeper, and at this point, he’s unsure whether Konoha’s holding the handle or if this pain is self-inflicted.

“I—I don’t know how to feel!” he splutters, and it’s the closest he’s come to losing his cool since yesterday’s practice. “What am I supposed to say? Wouldn’t _you_ rather be the vice-captain?”

“Hell no,” Konoha says, shaking his head furiously. “I’d rather not.”

“Why?”

“Because I hate being a leader. It’s boring and dull, and everyone depends on you all the time. I like people depending on me, but I’d like to be able to have my off days too. It don’t want that responsibility of being perfect. That shit’s too much.” He waves off Akaashi’s concerns as if they’re inconsequential. “It doesn’t mean enough to me. Being vice-captain, I mean.”

Okay, maybe Konoha doesn’t want to be vice-captain. But that doesn’t mean he’s the only option. “What about the others?”

“None of them have expressed any interest, if that’s what you’re asking,” Konoha says. “They all agreed when Bokuto first brought up the idea that you were perfect for the position.”

Perfect. What does perfect even mean? What qualities does he possess in particular that his upperclassmen lack? He doesn’t even hold a candle to Bokuto. He can’t figure out why he’s the obvious choice. (He thinks of point (9) Akaashi Keiji is not a unique player.)

Akaashi doesn’t have a response at the ready, which makes Konoha look over at him again.

“Did you actually talk to him about taking the position?”

“No.” Akaashi’s voice is feeble and weak. He is right. He _is_ a coward. “We left pretty much right after everyone else.”

“ _Why?_ Why didn’t you talk about it? Is that why you’re all frazzled about this?”

“Because—because I don’t even know if I should be vice-captain, Konoha-san!” Akaashi feels like he’s teetering on the edge again, and as always, he’s aware of how close he stands to the cliffside. He needs to lower his voice. His throat feels strained already, and there is no reason to raise his voice with Konoha over this.

Despite the fact that Akaashi is the one to escalate the situation, for once, Konoha is the calm one here. His tone is measured as he asks, “Why?”

Because there are better options. Because he is not someone people look to. Because he isn’t a star player. But how does someone bring those questions and worries into existence without falling apart completely?

“You should talk to Bokuto.” Konoha stands and jumps off the bottom step. Reaching into his backpack, he takes out an energy bar and tosses it into Akaashi’s lap. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not as big as you’re making it out to be. Yes, being vice-captain is an honor, but it’s more of a title. Being a leader is something people embody without the fancy words.”

Konoha moves to leave, but then stops one last time. “Oh, and if you’re going to talk to Bokuto, _please_ do it before the practice we have today. Otherwise, we’re not going to have much of an ace.”

* * *

(3) Akaashi Keiji overthinks. Too much.

It’s glaringly obvious that he’s distracted, and even though he manages to summon enough brain power to avoid Bokuto in the hall later that afternoon, he runs into Komi instead—and that’s not much of an improvement.

“Hey, Akaashi,” Komi greets him, gripping a textbook in his hands.

“Hi, Komi-san,” Akaashi says. “How was your thing last night?”

Komi jumps and scratches at the back of his head, his expression sheepish. “My thing!” he exclaims. “Yes, dinner was great! You know Bokuto’s looking for you?”

Yes, he knows, and yes, he’s actively trying to avoid that conversation until he has an actual answer to give Bokuto. There’s no point in crushing his spirits without clear certainty in what he wants.

“So I’ve heard,” he mumbles.

* * *

(4) Akaashi Keiji doesn’t always know what to say.

One thing he prides himself on his observational skills. He knows how to study someone, their quirks, their tics, their behaviors. He knows the train schedules, and the classes his upperclassmen take, and the list of novels he’s been anticipating that are coming out this month. But even with all that, he doesn’t always know what to say.

He can study something as much as he likes, but when it comes to saying the important stuff, he fails. He isn’t a motivational speaker, and he doesn’t always choose the best words.

That is why when Akaashi finishes changing, and he looks up to find Bokuto staring at him like a fish out of water, he is rendered speechless too.

If he expected Bokuto to be furious with him at his obvious avoidance tactics, he’s sorely mistaken. At least, he isn’t showing his anger. It’s like Konoha said—all he can do is stare, his amber eyes holding Akaashi captive. Akaashi has always been fascinated by the color of Bokuto’s eyes, but now, he wishes he had the ability to look away.

Thankfully, Konoha comes to his rescue—even if he doesn’t realize it.

Bokuto is blocking the entrance into the changing room, making it impossible for his senpai to squeeze past. “Bokuto, _move_ ,” Konoha insists. “Before I grow old and senile.”

“Right,” Bokuto says, snapping out of whatever trance he’d fallen into, unwittingly setting Akaashi free as well. He hustles over to his locker, dropping his duffle bag onto the bench. “Sorry!”

Konoha huffs as he shuffles past, but Akaashi doesn’t miss the knowing gleam in his gaze—the one that boasts of Konoha being right. Akaashi really considers telling him off for it, but right now, his priority is putting as much space as possible between him and Bokuto.

Bokuto opens his mouth, looking over at him—

Akaashi yanks his kneepads up over his sneakers and leaps to his feet. Yelling out an unnecessary “Ready!”, he speed-walks out of the club room. Even with the door swinging shut, Konoha’s cackle follows him all the way to the gym.

* * *

(4) Akaashi Keiji lacks initiative.

Even with Bokuto staring at him, open-mouthed, from across the court, Akaashi can’t work up the courage to speak to him. It’s become a weird little dance in which every time Bokuto walks over, Akaashi somehow disappears to the other side of the gym. He’s almost positive the rest of the team are aware of it, but none of them have the courage to breach the weird tension that has arisen since yesterday either.

Truthfully, the guilt is settling in hard. The usual easy contentment he feels when playing volleyball has turned into something much darker that sits deep in his stomach and twists every so often. Every time he thinks he has a second of normalcy, that coil will remind him that Bokuto is looking at him like a sad owl. It’s starting to eat him alive, and although their coach hasn’t said anything yet—likely because _he_ still feels guilty over his sudden departure—this can’t go on like this. He has to speak to Bokuto. This is getting ridiculous.

But every time he considers walking over, his legs freeze up, and the ordinary act becomes impossible.

Instead, he tries to communicate through his sets, even if Bokuto isn’t registering them with his usual level of excitement.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_

_I don’t know what to do_

_Please stop moping like that_

_I don’t like being the reason you’re upset_

_How do I fix this?_

Bokuto spikes another of his sets, and Akaashi almost says, “Nice kill!” But then he catches a glimpse of Bokuto’s round-eyed expression, and the sentence dies a slow and painful death in his throat.

When he looks over at the rest of the team, the only one who dares to meet his gaze is Konoha. Which doesn’t give him much comfort, because Konoha has resorted to glaring at him and mouthing, “Talk to him, talk to him, talk to him.”

It’s—not the worst advice Konoha has ever given. But it’s a very low bar.

Akaashi whips his head around. “Bokuto-san,” he calls.

Bokuto twists his body around so quickly it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash. There is a light to his eyes that hasn’t been there all day, and his mouth hangs open like an over-eager puppy. “Akaashi,” is all he says, and it’s enough that the sinking feeling in his stomach fades.

He breathes out in relief.

“I need to talk to you after practice.”

Maybe he does lack initiative, but he can’t let this go on any longer.

“Okay!” Bokuto nods his head eagerly, and it almost feels like the world has righted itself again. “I need to talk to you too, actually.”

 _And_ his world tilts once again.

* * *

(23) Akaashi Keiji likes Bokuto Koutarou too much to ever deny him anything.

The twenty-third point on Akaashi’s list makes itself apparent after practice. After the coach dismissed them for the day, everyone shuffled out of the changing room at a quicker pace than usual. Each teammate patted him on the shoulder on the way out, and he’d managed to resist the urge to scowl at them as they did so. Well, he did scowl at Konoha, who’d cooed a gentle “ _Good luck_ ” while the door swung shut behind him.

Akaashi specifically waited for Bokuto to finish changing before their conversation, because he needs zero distractions. Even if he’s having this conversation with the most distracting person he’s ever met.

“Okay, Akaashi,” Bokuto says as he zips up his sweatshirt to his neck. “Did you want to start, or should I?”

Now that he actually has to speak, Akaashi can feel the words dying on his tongue once more. He knows he has to spit them out eventually, but maybe, the cause of his anxiety comes from not knowing what Bokuto is going to say. Maybe it’s better if Bokuto speaks first.

“You can go,” he murmurs, his voice small.

“Right!” Bokuto grabs his backpack and begins rifling through it.

Akaashi is so stunned that for the next few minutes, all he can do is stare. “Um, Bokuto-san,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for it—ah! Here it is!” Bokuto draws a wrinkled piece of paper out from between the pages of one of his textbooks. He sets it down on the bench and works on flattening it. One of the corners looks like it was chewed off.

“I’m really confused—”

“One sec, Akaashi! I got this! I swear, I got this!” He pats the sheet of paper a few more times and then brandishes it in front of him. “Ta-da! See! I got it.”

“Yes, you got it.” Akaashi squints. Bokuto is waving the paper around so much that he can’t read the kanji. “What is it?”

“Oh! Well, I know we’ve never talked about it, but sometimes, I look at your planner and I noticed that you have a bunch of lists written all over it, and sometimes, you’ll start muttering about numbers—”

“Wait—you look at my planner?”

“And I know you said you weren’t mad at me, but it didn’t feel like you were completely okay, so I was worried. And you kept running away from me. Which was mean, by the way. I was so bored during lunch! Washio kept pelting me with tiny balls of paper.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupts, trying to bring this conversation into some semblance of normalcy, but Bokuto plows through.

“So I went to the library during the second half of lunch. And I used the computer to type this up and print this out! I thought maybe you wouldn’t be upset if I said all of the reasons why, but then I was worried I’d forget one while I was telling you, so I thought I should write it down, and then, I figured a list was the best way—”

“You what?” Akaashi snatches the paper from Bokuto, and in his steady grip, he can read the title. _All of the Reasons Akaashi Keiji Would Make a Great Vice-Captain!!!!!_

There are forty-two reasons. Forty-two reasons. Akaashi’s list only made it to twenty-three.

Some of them are borderline ridiculous like (11) Akaashi is always on time to practice or (25) Akaashi always reads all of the group chat messages even if he doesn’t respond. But then some of them make his heart warm like (34) Akaashi always knows how to pick someone up when they’re down and (5) Akaashi is already a great leader and (9) Akaashi always calms me down and (40) Akaashi is a great friend and (26) Akaashi always gives his 120 percent and (42) Akaashi’s tosses are the best.

That sinking sensation has long since faded away, and in its place, there is warmth pooling instead. His entire face feels warm, and he ducks his head to hide behind the paper.

“Akaashi! I can’t see your face!” Bokuto cries out. “It’s probably not as detailed as your lists, but I really did try! I asked the nice librarian to help me out when I jammed the printer. It was an accident though! She told me she’s getting a cat next week, and she showed me pictures… Are you mad, Akaashi?”

Akaashi keeps the paper up. If he looks at Bokuto, he thinks he might melt. “I’m not mad, Bokuto-san.” _I’m really happy._ He never tires of Bokuto’s endless string of compliments and praise. He always misses the feeling afterwards, like he’s riding along a sunset.

“I can’t see your face, though,” Bokuto muses. “How can I tell if you’re not mad with me?”

“Bokuto-san, can you ask me?”

“Can I ask you what?”

“Can you ask me to be your vice-captain? Again? You forgot the first time.”

“ _Akaashi!_ ”

“Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi, will you be my vice-captain next year?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”


End file.
